Belladonna
by Kailor Aurelius
Summary: Her father won't take her back into his home. Her mother is gone. Her few friends refuse to believe someone as perfect and well-respected as Lord Thomas could be so cruel. So when Lady Gail had slipped Chloe a poultice and a whisper at dinner, she had listened. She had followed it to the Belladonna. To this room and this woman that unsettles her so.
1. Chapter 1

**Kailor: Hello, my loves! First note: Scarlet Peak is on hold for a while.**

**But here we are with this story to keep you fed! So strap in, loves. It's going to be a bumpy ride.**

Chloe pauses in the alley between the bakery and the blacksmith. Although the darkness hides her well, she tugs her hood lower and her cloak tighter, scanning the market. As usual by this time of night, it's silent. With curfew only a few minutes away, the merchants are all tucked up in their homes. The stalls are barren. On the other side of them, the docks are the same: abandoned and still. All the lamps are doused, the ships just dark, swaying shadows on black water.

She presses her palm against the cool stone of the blacksmith's shop wall, leaning out as far as she dares. Down the road, walking away from her, are two soldiers. They move slowly, weapons put away. Their red coats flutter a little in the wind and they walk with their hands tucked deep in pockets lined by her father's money, no doubt. There isn't a soldier for days' ride that isn't under his thumb.

They reach the end of the port road and turn out of sight. Unwilling to wait any longer, Chloe darts across the cobblestones. When the soft tapping of her shoes on the road changes to dull thudding on the dock, she slows and bends, nearly crouching. She settles into a patch of shadow and turns back to the market, squinting at the clocktower, lit only by the crescent moon above. Nearly midnight.

As the minutes crawl by, her knees begin to ache, her pulse pounds in her ears to the beat of the clock's ticking hands. Finally, just as the hands meet at the top, she hears the singing.

It's a woman's voice, soft and shivery, floating in the dark spaces between the ships and the shore. The language is foreign and she shivers, fighting the urge to run. The echoing voice sounds almost surreal, coming from everywhere at once while drawing her farther down the dock. But it's here, like Lady Gail had said it would be, so she rises, grimacing at the tightness in her thighs and knees, and starts down the wooden path. The voice grows louder, but no less eerie. It slides over darkened decks and furled sails. She pauses occasionally, trying to pinpoint the exact source. The deck groans under her foot and she jumps.

Chloe glances back, searching the darkness for movement. There is none, but the feeling that she's being followed crawls up her spine, gripping at her ribs with startlingly cold fingers. Cursing her paranoia, she pushes on.

The creaking of ropes and rigging grows louder the farther she goes from the market. Wind whistles in empty crow's nests and slapping waves hit against hulls below her.

Something thumps and she spins, stumbling and staring hard into the dark. There's nothing. Pale from the cold, her hands shake as she tugs her cloak closer. She backs up a few steps, then turns, walking just a bit faster than before.

The clouds shift, letting a sliver of moonlight through. It lights the dock enough that she can make out the end and the dark bow of the last ship tethered there. The voice tremors down to her and, somehow, she knows that ship is where it leads. She glances back once more, her heart racing as her mind runs through the instructions Lady Gail had given her. She turns with the dock, moving alongside the ship. "Hello?" she calls softly, still searching the dark stretch of wood behind her. The moonlight is fading again, leaving the shadows to close back around her.

She looks up just as a figure leans over the railing. The face is in darkness, but she thinks a braid swings over their shoulder.

_"We are severed by the sun."_

The voice is soft, feminine. The singer, she realizes. And the familiar phrase nearly draws a sob of relief from her, but she bites it down and instead says, _"And by darkness, are made one."_

The woman pulls back and she hears a sharp scraping sound. Something clatters over the edge of the ship, dropping toward her. It misses her by a foot, smacking onto the dock before sliding off to hang between the ship and her. A rope ladder. She doesn't hesitate to grab hold, climbing as quickly as she can with her thick cloak and the small satchel she carries beneath it. Warm hands are waiting at the railing to help her clamber over. Once Chloe is steady on her feet, the woman grabs the ladder and pulls it back up, folding it into a hollow in the deck. She places a heavy board over the hole, hiding it from sight. Chloe waits patiently as the woman straightens, dusts her hands together, and lifts a small lantern, opening it.

She blinks in the sudden light. A sturdy chair sits beside the railing, surrounded by orange peels. The deck is cleaner than she'd expected, the wood shining in the lamplight, the ropes fresh and well-maintained. The woman is cleaner too, though Chloe takes a moment to stare at her clothes.

Her breeches are dark, her billowy shirt light, and over it she wears a vest of what Chloe recognizes is satin. It's purple with swirling designs embroidered throughout and Chloe thinks of the fabrics her mother always returned with from the Orient when she was little. Her bandanna is the same color and material, wrapped tightly around her head. The woman is nearly a head taller than her. And she is _beautiful_, dark hair braided down over her shoulder and perfect, tanned skin stretched over high cheekbones. "What business have you aboard the Belladonna?"

Throat suddenly a little tight, Chloe clears it politely and says, "I wish to speak with your captain. The Crow."

_The Crow._ An omen of death. Just saying it sends a shiver down her spine, not helped by the cold night wind that slips beneath her cloak to chase it. It's a name rarely spoken above a whisper in the town. The few times she was brave enough to venture into the tavern, she'd overheard stories of the Crow not actually being human at all, but a dark beast risen from the depths to tear apart Navy vessels and merchant ships. She knows the tales are foolish and that the Crow must be just a normal man—pirate or no. But she's heard the legend so many times now that she can't help but feel a little afraid as the woman before her nods and turns away, taking the light with her. She hurries to follow, stumbling a little on the bobbing deck.

It's warmer below deck and brighter. Lanterns sway every few feet down the hall, which stretches in both directions from where they stand, as well as forward. The woman turns right, glancing back only once to make sure she follows. They pass door after door. Some she thinks she hears murmuring voices behind. Others are slightly open, but dark inside. More halls and stairways split off every now and then and the woman leads her through turns and twists in the passages, never faltering. Chloe sticks close to her heels, having completely lost her sense of direction. It's far larger than she had imagined. She'd heard that pirates were paranoid and tended to construct their ships to confuse invaders, but she wonders if this one doesn't seek to confuse his own crew as well.

Finally, the woman stops at a door on the left. It doesn't look any different from the other doors they've passed, but the woman doesn't hesitate to push it open. "Wait in here. I'll go wake the Crow and our first mate."

Chloe suppresses another shiver and slips inside the dimly lit space. The door shuts behind her and she's left alone in a room that looks startlingly similar to her father's study. A single lantern hangs above a desk near the back of the room. The walls are covered in shelves, piled heavy with books. Their spines are hidden just beyond the lantern light so she can't identify any titles, but she can make out the lengths of thin rope strapped across each row, holding the books in place as the ship bobs back and forth.

She's just dropped her hood and taken a step closer to try and read the titles when a voice speaks behind her.

"What have we here?"

Chloe gasps, spinning around. She hadn't heard the door open again, but open it is, and a smaller woman stands at the threshold. The light from the hall and the lack of it from in the room puts her face in shadow and Chloe can only tell that she's a fairly tiny woman, slim waist, thin hips. Long, dark hair. And something silver glints in the top of her left ear.

"Do you not speak English?" the woman says, her voice lower than the one that had escorted Chloe here. Slower too, a slight drawl to her speech, like she can't be bothered to enunciate clearly. She suddenly says something in a language Chloe doesn't understand, tilting her head a little. Chloe catches the outline of a sharp jaw and forces her mouth open.

"No, I-I mean, yes. I speak English."

The woman is completely still, just her hair swaying with the ship, and Chloe realizes she must be waiting for her to answer the first question.

"I...wish to speak with the Crow. The other woman said she was waking him."

"She is." Smooth as silk, the woman slides fully into the room and swings the door shut with just a twist of her booted heel. Her voice is practically a whisper, but it seems to fill all of the darkest corners of the room. "But I wanted to speak with you first."

Once, when she was young, her father had come home with a small fox in a cage. She'd been enthralled with the small creature, its graceful little body and the way it could curl completely over itself to snap at its own tail. How its beautiful ears flicked back and forth when she spoke to it. Her father had his men build a large fenced in area on the back lawn and fill it with hedges pulled up from the forest and large, felled branches from the trees. He set the fox loose inside and she would watch it frolic and play from the balcony of her mother's rooms, giggling as it pounced about, chasing bugs.

But then her father had brought his finest hunting dog, Bo, inside the fence. And she watched as the fox froze, ears laying back when Bo spotted it. Neither of them had moved for the longest heartbeat of her life, until Bo snarled and the fox leapt into the hedges to escape.

It didn't.

And now, all these years later, Chloe thinks of that fox again and how it must have felt. Boxed in with something it had known was a predator upon first sight. Something that _feels_ dangerous, without even having moved yet. Her skin crawls and she's suddenly intensely aware of the sparse few feet between them, of the woman's soft breaths in the silent room. Of her own much quicker ones. Because this predator isn't like the one she's fleeing. He is dangerous to her in ways she's witnessed and survived.

This woman scares her in a completely different way. Because she has no idea what she's capable of.

"Why are you here?" Her eyes are adjusting to the dim light and she thinks she can see the curve of a brow, but the woman stays back in the deepest shadows of the room and Chloe wonders if it's a purposeful move.

"To speak with the Crow."

"About?"

"Passage."

"Where?"

"My aunt's house in Spain."

The woman stops then and Chloe pulls her cloak more securely around her. A flimsy defense, but all she has as she stands in the pool of lamplight, speaking to shadows. "Why?" they whisper.

Chloe licks her dry lips. "My father is trying to marry me to a man I do not wish to wed."

"And why not?" Even phrased as a question, it's practically an order and Chloe nods, her blood whispering an instinctual command to obey, to keep the predator at bay.

"He is not a good man. In many ways." Half of her wants to pull up her sleeves, loosen her corset, reveal the handprints around her wrists, her elbows, her ribs. The dark, aching bruise that curls around her hip and spreads down her leg. The purple caps of her knees. The scraped skin that stretches across her thighs. The other half never wants anyone to see them again. Lady Gail said she would heal soon enough, if she got away. Just scars, one day.

The woman stirs suddenly, one step forward, and Chloe does her best not to flinch. The lamp sways, light ebbs and flows across her face, and Chloe gets her first real look at the woman's features.

Pale skin, thin lips, dark eyes that track across Chloe's face, studying her right back. Her ears are filled with silver hoops, leading up to a thick metal bar through the top of the left. Chloe tries not to stare. It's rather difficult, because if the first woman she met was beautiful, this one is breathtaking.

Her shirt is barely laced in the front and Chloe feels her cheeks heat up as the light slides over the swell of a breast and shadows pool in bare collarbones. Her hands are tucked behind her back and Chloe suddenly wonders if she hides a weapon.

With a start, she realizes this woman is more dangerous than she had first thought. One look at her face and Chloe had forgotten to be afraid.

Like it only needed to be remembered, the fear rushes back full-strength and she sidesteps, circling with the woman, step for step, until they've switched places. Under the swaying lamp, the woman's earrings glint sharply and her teeth flash when she speaks. "So you seek refuge among pirates."

"It was the best option." Her father won't take her back into his home, insisting that if she were just better to her soon-to-be husband, the issues would end. Her mother is gone. Her few friends refuse to believe someone as perfect and well-respected as Lord Thomas could be so cruel. Most, if not all, of the city's guards are employed by her father. So when Lady Gail had slipped Chloe a poultice and a whisper at dinner, she had listened. She had followed it to the Belladonna. To this room and this woman that unsettles her so.

And yet, Chloe can't bring herself to stop staring at her.

The woman settles back against the desk, her hands moving around to her front. Empty hands, Chloe notes. "And you just wish to hop aboard? With the most bloodthirsty pirate crew on the seas?" She tilts her head again, her dark gaze appraising. "The Crow isn't known for charity. Hired work might interest him, however…"

And Chloe realizes they've reached the part of the meeting she was most dreading. But this woman isn't the Crow and the plan she'd prepared suddenly feels foolish and highly embarrassing. "I-I have no coin."

For the first time, the woman's lips curl up, but it's more of a sneer than anything. "Then what did you intend to pay with, girl?"

Chloe tightens the grip on her cloak, feeling her face flush as the woman's gaze darts immediately to the slight movement, then flickers back up. For what feels like the first time since she stepped into the light, the woman blinks.

Her sneer drops away and the impassive face from before slips right back into place. She stands and moves, following the circle they'd made before back toward the door, eyes never leaving Chloe's.

She retreats back to the desk. It's only when the woman turns away to yank the door open that, without that piercing gaze on her, Chloe is able to take a deep breath. The woman gives a short whistle.

The first woman, the one in the purple vest, appears in the doorway almost immediately. There's a whispered conversation that Chloe strains to hear but fails. Then the woman in the purple vest is in the room, taking Chloe by the arm firmly but with soft hands, and steering her into the hall. For a moment, the terrifying realization hits her that she may have just silently made the offer she'd planned to make to get passage and it had been accepted. Her heart races and she wonders, not for the first time, if she's made a mistake. If she's run from one hunting dog only to land in the jaws of another. Offering her body to a pirate to be free of her abusive fiance had sounded like a brave sacrifice before, when she was alone in Thomas' home, waiting for the maids to retire for the night and tending her wounds secretly. But now, as she's marched down a dim hall toward what she can only assume is the captain's quarters, the idea squeezes around her lungs so hard that she struggles to take in a breath. She turns to the woman holding her arm. "Are we— Am I going to speak with the Crow now?"

The woman glances at her and Chloe—ridiculously, considering the circumstances—notes that her eyes are green. "You just did."


	2. Chapter 2

**Kailor: Welcome back, my loves! Hope you enjoy!**

She wakes to yelling voices and raucous laughter above her.

The room she'd been shown to last night is small, but comfortable. There's an empty bookshelf in the corner and the bedframe is fastened to the wall so it won't slide if the boat suddenly pitches. The mattress itself isn't as soft as the one at home, but it's clean and she finds extra blankets under the bed to sleep on. There's a small desk in the corner and, during her quick perusal of the room, she finds fresh parchment, quills, and ink in the drawer.

But now, with enough noise that she knows it must be daylight, she doesn't think of extra blankets or fresh parchment. She thinks of home and all the things she'd had to leave behind. Her painting supplies. Her books of poetry and history. All the little trinkets she'd bought with her tiny allowance from the market. Her mother's paintings.

The only things of value that she'd brought are her mother's necklace and the bent coin from the little girl that used to live next door when Chloe was a child, before the influenza took her. Both objects are tucked deep down in her bag and wrapped tightly in a spare bit of fabric. But that's it. All of home that's left.

She hasn't seen Aunt Catherine since she was barely old enough to walk. What few letters they've exchanged over the years have been brief and vague. All Chloe knows for sure is that Aunt Catherine left to go where she wanted to go and be happy. And that's what Chloe wants. She can only hope that Aunt Catherine can help.

If she survives the trip, she thinks, as the sounds above her grow louder and become shouts. Something crashes and someone laughs maniacally.

She jumps at a sudden rapid tapping on the door and stands as quickly as her corset will let her. It feels somehow tighter today than it had yesterday. She'd tried very hard to get it off the night before, but couldn't break the knot. And asking for help had terrified her. "Yes?"

The door swings open and the woman in the purple vest sticks her head inside. Stacie, she'd called herself last night as she had closed Chloe in this room. "Good morning! Captain sent me to wake you."

"Oh." Chloe glances down at the dress she'd slept in.

"We'll get you something to wear. Come along." Stacie jerks her head and slips back out into the hallway.

It's brighter, sunlight pouring down a staircase they pass and more lanterns are lit. They pass a few different women on the way, including a thin blonde who gives Chloe a dazzlingly bright smile and a quick wave. She's gone so quickly that Chloe barely has time to think how un-pirate-like she looks. None of the women she's seen so far look like they should be pirates, really. Well. Except the Crow.

Obviously, the rumors had been wrong about her being a seven foot tall man, but otherwise, she had looked like every story whispered in the taverns, every cautionary tale told at the hearth before bed. Dark and deadly.

And possibly expecting Chloe to pay for this trip with her body, she suddenly remembers.

It's no secret that pirates tend to be more...free with their sexualities. She's heard the stories of pirate men taking members of their crew as lovers. Is the Crow like them?

Stacie stops in an open doorway and spins on her heel, braid flying. "Right. Ashley can get you fixed up."

Ashley, a dark-haired woman nearly as tall as Stacie, is busily hanging clothes from lines strung across the room. There's a heavy basin in the corner, sudsy water slopping around inside and a washboard balanced against the wall beside it. She smiles, motioning for Chloe to step into the room. "Captain said you'd be coming by. Go on and strip down so we can find you something that fits."

Stacie closes the door behind Chloe, leaving her alone with Ashley and the clotheslines.

Her corset, which is already sitting a little crooked after sleeping in it, suddenly feels even tighter. "Um. Is there a place to change?"

Ashley looks up from the two shirts she's studying and blinks. "Oh. Of course. Sorry. We ain't used to fancy ladies here." She laughs, motioning to the other end of the room. Heavy sheets are hanging from the last line. "You can go behind those. Just shout if you need anything. I'll see what I can find." She gives Chloe a quick glance-over, head to foot, then ushers her on.

Still feeling a little like the walls are pressing in on her, Chloe nods and hurries into the makeshift dressing room. It's dark behind the sheet—dark enough that Chloe feels a little better about slipping off her clothes. She manages fairly well until she gets to her corset. Her maid had done it up very well for the fancy dinner Chloe had attended just before she snuck out. She tries to pry the knot at the bottom open for a minute, hoping for more luck than she'd had last night. But it's no good. It's too tight. She sighs. "Ashley?"

"Mm?"

"I can't get the corset undone. Could you help?"

The sheet moves and Chloe snatches up one of her skirts, holding it to her chest. But Ashley barely bats an eyelash at the movement, turning Chloe to pull at the knot. In barely moments, the laces begin to loosen.

Chloe quickly presses her hand to the front to keep it from slipping off. "You're very fast at this."

Ashley hums lightly, plucking at the laces. "I was a lady's maid 'fore I joined the Belladonna. Did this every day from the time I was ten to about seventeen." She pats Chloe's back once. "All done. Here."

Turning, Chloe finds Ashley pulling a rolled bundle from under her arm. She takes it, holding it to her chest with her skirt. Ashley ducks back out and Chloe breathes easier—not just because her corset has loosened. She drops the skirt and hard-boned corset to the floor, taking a shaky breath. It's too dim to really see the bruises banding her wrists or the barely healing scratches on her thighs, but she doesn't need to see them to know where they are. She can feel them, even when they don't hurt.

She dresses quickly, pulling on the warm breeches and the billowy shirt Ashley had given her. It feels so strange. So _light._ So freeing. She probably looks ridiculous, though. Not like Ashley or Stacie, whose shirts fit them well and somehow still look feminine despite being men's clothes. Or like the Crow…

Chloe quickly finishes lacing up the front of the shirt, doing it all the way up. Even completely covered, she still feels a little naked without all her skirts. But everything fits fairly well. The breeches are a little large, but it's fine. She only needs to wear these clothes until she gets to Spain. Quickly, she lets her hair loose from its bun and cards her fingers through her bright red curls, hoping they don't look too wild after sleeping on them. They hang nearly to her hips now and braiding them takes a while, but she does it. She pulls a ribbon from her skirts to tie off the end.

She pushes aside the sheet and steps out.

Ashley whistles appreciatively. "Well, look at you! You look just like a pirate." She hands Chloe two vests to try on. "Which is a compliment here, just so you know."

"I had assumed." Chloe tries them both on. The first one is a little too large, slipping off her shoulders when she moves. The second is a bit snug, but it buttons to right under her breasts, pushing them up a bit like her corset usually would. It makes her feel a little more normal, so she hands the larger one back to Ashley.

They fit her with some very comfortable leather boots that come halfway up her calves and a rather nice belt with gold hoops. By the time they're finished, Chloe almost doesn't recognize herself. But she figures that's good. She doesn't want anyone else to recognize her either.

She goes to collect her discarded clothing, but Ashley waves her off. "Oh, leave it. I'll get them cleaned up and returned to you, yeah?"

"Thank you, Ashley."

With a sweeping bow and a grin, Ashley sends her from the room.

* * *

Stacie's waiting for her at the end of the hall, idly spinning a wicked-looking knife between her fingers. She stops when she sees Chloe. "By the depths!" She drops the blade into its sheath at her hip. "You might take over the seas just by looking at them." She waves a hand at her face, as if the cool interior of the ship has suddenly heated up.

Chloe can feel herself flushing and covers it up by turning to glance back down the hallway. "Where are we?"

"Below deck."

"I mean in the world."

Stacie grins and Chloe knows she knew exactly what Chloe meant. "A few hours off the coast of St. Augustine. We're at anchor right now." She turns and hops up the stairs two at a time.

Chloe follows quickly—her new, heavy boots thudding loudly on the steps. "St. Augustine? But that's further south. Should we not be traveling east?" The sunlight is so bright that she can't quite see for a few moments once she's cleared the stairs. She blinks rapidly, squinting and raising a hand to shield her eyes. There are women all over the deck, pulling ropes and carrying crates. Standing in huddles and yelling back and forth to each other. To her horror, she spots one woman halfway up the mast, hanging upside down by a rope around her ankles and looking like she might be sleeping. She'd heard that pirates sometimes did this to crew members to punish them. She wonders what this woman might have done.

"Captain said to head south first." Stacie takes her arm, not unkindly, and tugs her along toward the upper deck. "You're going to Spain, right?"

"Yes."

Stacie nods. "I assume we sail for supplies then."

The ship sways underfoot and Chloe stumbles a little. She's been on many ships in her life—part of being a wealthy merchant's daughter—but none this large and rarely this far out to sea. She turns in a slow circle and finds every horizon is just water. No land in sight. So far from home and her fiance, and she can still feel his fingers around her wrists. She clears her throat, falling into step with Stacie.

She leads the way up to the helm, nodding to the dark-skinned woman leaning against the wheel. Her hair is dyed a dark red and cropped shorter than Chloe's used to seeing women's hair.

"This is Cynthia Rose. Our Sailing Master."

Cynthia Rose eyes Chloe up and down, nodding appreciatively. "You the bird we takin' to Spain?" Her accent is tinted with the same one most of her father's workers speak with. Islander.

"Yes, I am."

She nods again. "Well, I'll thank you for it. We needed a good adventure on this ship."

A tall, lanky woman with a long, dark braid bounces by, grinning. "They're coming back up!" She stops, seeing Chloe. "Oh, hi! I'm Emily!"

"Come on." Stacie waves for Chloe to follow, falling into step beside Emily.

Cynthia Rose leaves one of the other women at the wheel and claps Chloe on the back hard enough to sting. "Coming?"

Chloe trails behind them and the other women all rushing for the bow of the ship. She hurries down the stairs with Cynthia Rose, who everyone moves out of the way for. Together, they end up right near the bow, standing at the front of the crowd of women. And it _is_ all women, she realizes, glancing around.

Stacie strides forward, to where a very large blonde woman is tugging on a rope that's pulled taut over the edge, and nudges her. "Got it, Amy?"

Amy snorts, yanking on the rope again. "Please. You act like either of them weigh more than a barrel of air. Outta my way, Leggy." Her accent is strange, unlike any that Chloe's heard before.

Stacie backs up quickly and Amy digs her heels in, pulling. There's a great splashing and something knocks against the side of the boat. Chloe's stomach turns.

_Keelhauling._ It's one of the tortures she's heard whispered about. The act of tying ropes to a person and dragging them beneath the ship, slicing their bodies with the sharp barnacles that cling to the hulls. They say the lucky ones drown quickly. The unlucky ones come out the other side alive and get dragged under again.

A hand slaps onto the deck and Chloe jumps.

The crew cheers as a dripping woman hefts herself up to straddle the railing, a large wicker basket strapped to her back. She's half dressed, wearing only breeches and a chest wrap. Her skin is tanned, her eyes slanted. From the Orient. Dark tattoos wind their way up both of her forearms and her shaggily-cropped hair is dyed the most vibrant pink Chloe's ever seen, even soaking wet. She grins, taking a deep breath. Chloe's eyes flicker over the rippling muscles in her bare stomach and she feels her face heat. She's never seen anyone show this much skin. There's a long, white scar cut diagonally across the woman's midriff and Chloe frowns, eyeing it.

"Dinner, anyone?" The pink-haired pirate slips off the basket, passing it to one of the crew, who opens it to find it filled to the brim with silver, flopping fish.

The crew cheers again. The woman tugs at the rope tied around her hips and bends, reaching down. Another hand appears, wrapping tight around her tattooed forearm.

Chloe's stomach flutters as she pulls the Crow up.

She's fully dressed, though her black shirt clings to her body tightly. Her long, dark hair is tied back at the nape of her neck and her pale face shimmers with water droplets. She's undeniably gorgeous—the wet clothes accentuating toned muscle and gently curved hips. She's about the same height as the pink-haired one, but the Crow somehow looks smaller beside her.

And more dangerous, Chloe thinks. Even in the bright sun, something about her makes Chloe's blood tremble.

The crew cheers even louder than before, a few of them rushing forward to pull both women fully aboard.

"Ven," the Crow says, turning to the pink-haired woman. "Get it all down to galley and then meet me in my chambers. Stacie, you too."

Ven salutes and the Crow pushes through the crowd, passing right beside Chloe. She stops, tilting her head to catch Chloe's eye. In the light, her eyes are a deep, dark blue that reminds Chloe of the furthest reaches of the sea. The parts no man dares venture to. The parts filled with monsters and unimaginable dangers.

She's soaking wet and breathing a little heavily. A single drop tracks from the hollow of her throat and into the open collar of her shirt. Chloe quickly looks away from the drop and those bottomless eyes.

"Emily," the Crow says and the lanky girl leaps to attention. "Watch the princess here. Give her something to do."

Then she's gone, leaving nothing but a hollow feeling in Chloe's gut and the heavy tang of salt and lavender in the air.

Emily's hand is soft on her arm. "Chloe?" She smiles, the brightest of all the grins Chloe's seen so far. "Let me show you around a little."


	3. Chapter 3

**Kailor: Welcome back aboard, my darlings! Thank you for all the reviews and messages! As always, enjoy the ride!**

She decides very quickly that she likes Emily, despite her being a pirate. She's one of the younger members of the crew, a few years younger than Chloe herself, but she seems to be one of the most important women on the ship. Everyone they pass bows their head to her or offers her food or drink.

"I'm the surgeon," she explains when Chloe asks about it. "So everyone takes really good care of me. I've stitched up just about every soul aboard. We're pretty much sisters at this point."

"Surgeon?" Chloe blinks, looking her up and down. "You're barely my age!"

Emily shrugs, smiling. "My father was a doctor. I used to read his books and his notes and I would sneak in to watch when he tended to people."

"And how did you end up here? On a…" Chloe lowers her voice, unsure if it would offend one of the women around them. "Pirate ship?"

"Oh! Well, actually, it's a thrilling story!"

"'Thrilling' she calls me almost losing my life." The pink-haired pirate drops from above, making them both jump. She's dressed now, in only a black leather vest, leaving her tattooed arms scandalously bare. Dry, her short hair is untamed and windswept, sticking up in all directions. Chloe's lady's maids would faint just by looking at it. Dark roots are starting to show at her scalp and Chloe wonders briefly what she uses to dye her hair such a bright color.

"Ven!" Emily says, voice lifting a little. Her entire face flushes red and all of the giddy energy she's been putting into showing Chloe around suddenly manifests in fluttering hands and an extra little bounce in the step she takes forward. Then she clears her throat. "Um, I mean. Ven, this is Chloe. Chloe, Ven is many things on the ship, but she's mainly our carpenter. She takes care of the actual ship."

"I see." Chloe bows her head in greeting. "Well met. You said something about your life?"

"Ah, yes." Ven's smile grows wider. "I was Emily's first surgery." She wraps her hand in the net-like ropes beside them and hops up to sit on the railing. "Would you like to hear the story?"

"Oh no, are you telling you two's love story again?" Cynthia Rose plops against the railing beside Ven, resting back with her arms crossed.

Emily's red face burns even brighter. "It is _not_ our love story!"

Ashley appears at Chloe's side. She's even taller than Emily, and between the two of them, Chloe feels very small. But Ashley gives her a smile as she takes a seat on a nearby barrel, bringing them to roughly the same height. "Oooh, I love this one. Go on, Ven. Tell us."

Ven's dark eyes slip to Chloe and she leans forward, elbows on her knees. "Do you want to hear it, Milady?"

"If you've a mind to tell it."

"I've _always_ a mind to tell a good story." Ven pulls herself up on the ropes until she's standing on the railing. The rocking of the ship barely seems to affect her balance. She just leans and sways with it. Other pirates gather around them, playfully groaning or cheering for the story about to be told. Ven spreads her arms wide. "I was barely thirteen summers old when I was brought to the Americas. I spoke no English. I hardly knew which side of the ship was port and which was starboard!"

The crew laughs and Chloe joins them, though she suddenly wonders if _she_ knows which is which.

"We were being sold as slaves in the city square. Bunch of us. Young'uns and old. All in a line up on the gallows." She laughs. "Think they planned to hang the ones that didn't sell."

The pirates laugh, but Chloe doesn't find this joke that funny.

"So there I am, up on the gallows, watching rich Englishmen bid on me. Not understanding a word they say. When, out of nowhere, this arrow comes flying out of the crowd and strikes down the auctioneer." She slaps her hands together, hooking an elbow around the rope, and Chloe jumps. The pirates laugh. "Suddenly, everyone is screaming and running. And these cloaked people are racing up on the gallows, grabbing us. I didn't know who they were or what they wanted, so I fought back. Got away, even." Her voice drops, breathier, though it still carries over the crowd. "And I ran straight into one of the slavers."

The pirates boo right on cue. The big blonde, Amy, makes a gagging sound.

"He tried to grab me and I kicked and clawed and bit as hard as I could. I guess he decided I was more trouble than I was worth." She pulls up the bottom of her vest, showing the long, white scar again. Chloe stares at her bare skin, shocked at the sudden reveal. "He slit me open, rib to hip, and left me bleeding on the ground."

She says it so simply but the very thought makes Chloe's skin crawl. How can she talk about such brutality so...easily?

"I thought that was it." Ven drops her vest and leans against the ropes, one hand propped on her hip. "Thought I was going to die right there, so far from home that I couldn't even imagine how to get back. But then…" She smiles. "A girl about my age leaned down over me. I didn't know what she was saying, but she started pressing her cloak to my wound and yelling. She turned and called another girl over, this one even younger." Ven winks at Emily, who flushes brighter than ever. "I passed out and woke up on a ship, with the first girl holding my guts together while the younger one tried to stitch me up."

Emily waves a hand. "I heard the call for help and I answered it. I didn't know at the time that I was helping pirates." She shrugs, grinning. "I figured it out pretty quick once they got us back to their ship, but, by then, I couldn't leave Ven to bleed out. So I came aboard and never left." She glances at Ven. "And it really wasn't _that_ bad."

"There was bone showing." The voice sends more chills down Chloe's spine than the whole story. The Crow slips out of the crowd of women, parting them with nothing more than her presence. "Ven was shaking uncontrollably and spitting up blood. She stopped breathing multiple times and Emily brought her back each one."

Ven smiles and crouches on the railing, obviously content to let the captain take over.

The Crow rounds on Chloe suddenly, hands tucked behind her back. It's so reminiscent of the way she looked last night, the first time Chloe had seen her, that it suddenly feels like she's back in that dark room, alone and scared of every shadow. Ashley stands off her barrel, a looming presence at Chloe's back and a reminder that as nice as these women have seemed so far, they are still pirates, still just like their captain in many ways. Not all of the stories she's heard of the Belladonna can be true, but in turn, neither can they all be false.

The Crow tilts her head. "I held Ven open for hours while Emily patched her insides. And then I held her shut while Emily sewed her up."

The image that springs to Chloe's mind turns her stomach and she clenches her jaw tightly, hoping the Crow doesn't notice.

"By the time she was finished there was more blood on the table and floor than in Ven." She slides one foot forward, barely resting her weight on it. "We pulled in other crew members and took their blood to give to her. It took weeks of constantly watching her, but Ven lived. Thanks to Emily." She finally looks away and, like a shadow come and gone, the chill that had settled on Chloe's skin goes with her gaze. "Don't belittle how much you did," she says to Emily. "And you." She turns to Ven who jauntily salutes. "Didn't I tell you to stop distracting my crew?"

"Oh, aye, Captain." Ven grins. "Can't help myself sometimes."

The Crow huffs through her nose. "Get to work. All of you." She never raises her voice, but the rest of the crew leaps to action as if she'd yelled. They all bustle away, Amy whistling an off-key tune.

Emily tugs at Chloe's sleeve, shuffling sideways a bit.

Before they get more than a few steps away, the Crow turns on them again. "Emily."

"Ah, yes? Captain?"

"I believe I told you to put the girl to work."

"Yes! Yes, Captain. I am. Right now. Doing it, I mean. Right now." Emily shuffles some more, pulling Chloe along.

Turning her back on that cold gaze is somehow harder than facing it. But Chloe tucks her head down and sticks to Emily's side until they're below deck and she can finally breathe again. "Good Lord," she mutters, pressing a hand to her racing heart. "Is she always like that?"

"Hm? Who?" Emily glances back as she leads the way down one of the halls. "Ven? Oh, yes. She's always been…" She waves her hands about. "Theatrical. It was much more amusing before she learned to speak English."

"Not Ven. The Crow."

Emily's steps slow and she turns, walking backward to look at Chloe. "Oh. Well. She's...a little difficult to get along with for most people. But once she gets used to you, you'll not find a better friend than Beca."

Chloe blinks, the name so starkly unexpected that she doesn't quite know what to do with it. "Beca?"

"Yes. Beca." Emily winces and turns back around. "Not sure I was supposed to tell you that."

* * *

It's...strangely easy—her first day aboard the Belladonna. After the Crow disappears below deck, anyways.

It doesn't take long for Chloe to forget her own mental warnings that these women are pirates. Murderers and thieves. Criminals. Because, for pirates, they're all actually quite nice. Yes, they're a bit improper—they eat with their mouths open and they curse a _lot_ and Ven isn't the only one that seems to have a penchant for running around half-dressed. But they're kind to her. Emily leads her all around the deck, pointing out ropes and sails and naming them. Chloe doesn't remember a single one once they've moved on to the next, but she can't bring herself to dull the shine in Emily's face when she repeats after her and nods.

Emily really is nothing like the girls Chloe is used to. They're all frilled wealth and carefully built reputations. Controlled, obedient. Perfect pictures of grace and poise. Emily is exuberant in almost everything she does. She practically tremors with excitement when anyone speaks to her and there's no grace or poise to her. She's rough around the edges and a little clumsy, but more beautiful for it, Chloe thinks. She's real and raw and Chloe finds she likes that.

All of the pirates seem that way. They laugh and joke without glancing over their shoulders to see if anyone notices or cares. They sing loudly. They drink, they dance. They wear brightly-colored vests and shirts. It's like a whole other world aboard the Belladonna.

When she takes a break in her room just before nightfall and dinner, she finds herself mostly calm.

Chloe sits on the edge of her bed, sighing. Her stomach is a little queasy, still growing used to the constant movement, and her body aches. Muscles she didn't know she had are sore—in her legs and arms. She'd done little more than pull a rope or two, but it's more physical work than she's had to do in her life. It makes her realize how weak she really is.

Despite all of that, Chloe feels good. She's still afraid, but not like she was back home. There's no Thomas around every corner. Her father's eyes aren't on her every second of the day. She feels almost...free. Almost.

But the thought of her father, as it so often does, brings a creeping uneasiness. Because as Chloe thinks of him, she realizes that not a woman aboard has asked for her family name. She had told Stacie her first name the night before and hadn't thought much of it when the other women knew it. She just assumed knowledge passed quickly on a ship. But now she wonders if they didn't ask because they already knew. Her father _is_ fairly well-known.

Perhaps asking for a family name was just bad form on a pirate ship. At least she hoped, because her stomach turns as she thinks of what could happen to her if they all knew. Her father has always been loud and set in his hatred of pirates, wherever he goes. Surely if these women knew who she was, they would have thrown her overboard immediately in revenge. Or cut her into pieces and shipped her back to her father.

There's a knock on her door and she jumps, bumping the little desk hard enough to rattle the drawers.

Stacie's smile is bright, though the hallway is much darker with the sun dropping. Shadows sit beneath her cheekbones and in her eyes. "My lady. The captain requests your presence."

Unease curls tightly in Chloe's stomach and she twists her head to look down the hall beyond Stacie. It's empty. "Now?"

"Yes, ma'am," Stacie says, nodding. "Come. I'll accompany you."

She doubts a refusal is an option here, so she steps out, carefully closing the door behind her. Stacie turns on her heel and strides off. Chloe trails behind her, trying to tamp out the crawling fear beneath her skin.

Why would the Crow be calling on her again? She hasn't done anything, has she? Emily said most of the crew should be retiring for dinner very soon and that she would fetch her then.

Stopping at the open door to the very same office she'd led Chloe to the night before, Stacie gives her a half bow and sweeps her arm out, motioning her inside. As soon as she's cleared the door's path, it snaps shut behind her. And she's alone again with the Crow.

It's strange, how much larger she looks here, in just the single light from the hanging lantern. Almost as if she takes up more space in the darkness than she does under the sun. Like the dark is part of her, so that she fills the whole room until she's all Chloe can pay attention to. Until all that's left is her, bent over the desk in a loosely tied, black shirt and fitted pants.

Chloe tries to set the name "Beca" to her, but it feels wrong. Too bright a name for this dark creature.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry?" Chloe blinks, startling at the voice that slices the silence.

The Crow lifts her head and her dark eyes trek over Chloe's face before dropping back to the papers on the desk. "Where are you going?" she repeats slower. Only then does Chloe realize it's a map she's looking at, thin fingers trailing over scribbled names and jagged drawings of mountains and coasts.

"S-Spain," Chloe says. The Crow's eyes flutter closed and she sucks in a breath through her nose. Aggravated. Chloe knows that look well. Her father wears it often. So she rushes to fix her mistake. "Um. Santiago de Compostela. My aunt is a nurse at the university there."

The Crow's fingers slide across the map—the soft scratch of skin on paper filling the room—and stop on the northwestern tip of Spain. "I see." She pushes off of the map and straightens. "Do you know what's happening in Spain right now?"

Carefully, Chloe takes a small step closer. "The war."

"The Anglo-Spanish War." The Crow moves as the ship sways, rounding the desk. "Dangerous waters to be sailing."

Is she going to change her mind about taking Chloe there? Panic rises hot and boiling in her throat.

"Before we take you there," she says, as if reading Chloe's mind. It sends a chill through her blood that should douse the panic, but instead just turns it cold. "We sail for Port Royal. Have you heard of it?"

She has. From the same folk at the tavern that whispered stories of the Crow. They said Port Royal is a place for the worst types of people. The murderers and rapists and cannibals. The prostitutes and vagabonds. The "scum of the earth" as her father would call them.

The pirates.

Again, it's like the Crow knows what she's thinking. "It's also a dangerous place. More dangerous than Spain, I would wager."

The quiet starts to tear at Chloe almost immediately. So she opens her mouth. "Then why go there?"

The Crow shifts and she's suddenly closer, though Chloe isn't sure she actually saw her feet move. She tenses, waiting. For what, she isn't sure. If it were Thomas or her father, she'd be waiting for a hit. But with the Crow, she just doesn't know.

The Crow stops just within touching distance. Chloe could reach out and touch a pale cheek if she wanted to. Or one of her bare collarbones.

She blinks. What a strange thought to have.

"We need to resupply." The Crow tucks her hands behind her back. "Take a rest before we set sail. It's a very long journey. There will be Spanish ships. They're trying to reclaim Port Royal, so we often have to fight them to get there. And they hate pirates in Spain. They'll fight us there as well. Some of my crew may not live to see the end of this journey." She shifts again, sliding just a little closer into Chloe's space. Close enough that Chloe can see the lantern flame in her eyes. "Women I have sworn my life to. Women who have sworn theirs to me. All to get _you_ to Spain."

There's a shake in Chloe's voice that she hopes isn't in her body. "Then why bring me?"

One shoulder lifts and falls. Dark eyes trail down Chloe's face and then off, to the darkness in the corner. "Perhaps...we can help each other." Her voice is slow and thoughtful, free of the bite it's carried so far.

Well, not bite. But the promise of teeth.

She steps past Chloe, stirring the air just enough for her to feel it brush by and Chloe suddenly realizes what the Crow is asking her for. The payment she'd accidentally offered. That's why the Crow had told her all these things. To show her exactly how much she owed.

The light shirt and pants that had felt so freeing earlier, suddenly don't feel like enough. She misses her corset and her skirts. Her thick cloak. The sunlight that had shown how small the Crow really is.

Because here, in the dark, Chloe feels helpless. Almost as scared as she'd been the first time Thomas had shoved her into a wall after too many drinks. When she'd realized there was nothing she could do to stop what was about to happen.

_Almost_ as scared, but not quite. And that seals the deal for her. If just the thought of returning to Thomas scares her more than the very present risk of a pirate demanding her body, then she knows she's made the correct choice. It's a sacrifice she's prepared for. Anything, everything, to get away from him.

Then the Crow speaks and Chloe jumps again. "You'll be put to work on the ship. A few days will be given for you to grow accustomed to the labor, but after that, you will be treated just as everyone else is." Chloe turns to find the Crow prowling slowly along the bookshelf, one long finger skipping from spine to spine. "Which means, if I ask you to do something, you do it. No matter what it is. Do you understand?"

Anything. Everything. "Yes, Captain."

"Good." The Crow stops and turns on her heel to face her. "First order of business. Your hair."

It takes a few moments for the sentence to break through the fog in Chloe's mind. "My...hair?"

The Crow nods sharply. "It's too long for a new sailor. It can be dangerous to have long hair while working on a ship."

Chloe touches the braid that falls to her hips. "How short would you—"

"To your shoulders only." The Crow rounds her desk and takes a seat in the heavy wooden chair behind it. "It's a safer, more manageable length." Her hands settle on the arms of the chair like a queen's on a throne. "You'll also be put directly under the charge of our quartermaster. You know what that is, yes?"

She has been on her father's ships many times and she's heard the term. But she was always fussed when she asked her father questions and there was no one else to talk to after her mother passed. Vaguely, she remembers mention of sailors being reported to a quartermaster. "I am familiar with the title, but not the position."

"Mm." The Crow's dark eyes flicker over her face. "The quartermaster is in charge of discipline and order. She doles out punishments when rules are broken."

Chloe's hands are shaking so she tucks them together at her waist.

"She will teach you your duties and she will handle you if you fail to do them. Understood?"

"Yes, Captain."

The Crow stands, crossing the room to pull the door open. There is a tall, beautiful woman standing in the hall, waiting patiently with her hands tucked behind her back. Her blonde hair is tied in a perfect bun at the base of her neck and her face is still, impassive. Her posture alone tells Chloe that this is not a woman to be messed with.

"This is Quartermaster Aubrey. If you need anything or have any questions, you report to her." The Crow slips back into her shadows, lip curling. Her voice is low and full of disdain when she says, "Don't become a burden on my ship or you'll be dropped off at the nearest port, wherever that may be." With that, she turns back to her desk and Chloe knows she's been effectively dismissed. Her face burns with embarrassment as she hurries out. Even though she had been summoned, she suddenly feels like she'd been intruding on the captain and it makes her stomach burn hot.

She hurries out, shutting the door behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Kailor: Hello, loves! You know how life can be. I'm sorry for the wait, but here we are! Welcome back aboard!**

Quartermaster Aubrey is fairly intimidating up close. She nods sharply when Chloe joins her in the hall and it makes her want to straighten up, all of her lessons on posture rushing back at once. "Chloe, was it?"

"Yes, Quartermaster."

"I'll do my best to make your training simple. I know Emily has shown you around today. Did you learn anything?" Quartermaster Aubrey jerks her head for Chloe to follow as she heads off down the hall.

"Honestly, not much. It was quite a lot to take in."

The quartermaster hums in what Chloe thinks is agreement. "You'll catch on. Before that, let's get a few things out of the way. Rules, some standard for the crew, some solely for you." She turns a corner and Chloe quickens her pace to stay with her. "Crew rules that you need to know: Anyone found carrying a lit candle free of its lantern receives twenty lashes with the whip."

Chloe's stomach tightens painfully at the thought. She understands the rule. Carrying an open flame on a wooden ship would be unsafe. But the harshness of the punishment terrifies her.

"No money is to be exchanged over games of dice or cards. Gambling is a land game. Anyone found breaking this rule will receive twenty lashes." Quartermaster Aubrey continues, as if reading from a text. She slows to a halt outside a door that Chloe can hear voices and laughter behind. "No striking one another aboard the ship. Any disputes are to be taken to land and settled with a duel. If you do strike another crew member, you will get lashes, the amount decided at the captain's discretion. Lanterns on deck and down below in the sleeping quarters are to be put out at nine o'clock. If anyone wishes to stay up after that time, they are to do so up on deck to not disturb those going to sleep. Do you understand?"

It's simple enough. No open flames, no gambling, no fighting, and bed by nine. "Yes, Quartermaster."

Quartermaster Aubrey nods sharply. "Now, for you. Should we be engaged in any kind of combat, you are to return to your room unless instructed to do otherwise by myself or the captain. There is a bar under the bed you can use to lock the door. One of us will come for you once the battle is over." Her bright eyes lock on Chloe's and one eyebrow lifts. "This is for your safety as well as everyone else's. We cannot have you getting under foot during a fight. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Quartermaster."

"Lastly, for now," she adds. "At all times, you are to stay with me, Boatswain Stacie, or someone we give you clear instructions to stay with. This is, again, for your safety. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Quartermaster."

She nods. "Good." She clears her throat and when she speaks again, it's much softer. "And you can just call me Aubrey. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." She steps back and sweeps the door behind her open.

The voices rise louder as she steps inside. There are tables, laid end to end, running the length of the room, and there are women everywhere. They shout and laugh, passing drinks and food back and forth over the tables. There's some kind of card game going on in the corner. It's not as messy and uncivilized as she would have imagined, but it's louder than any dinner she's ever been to. Wilder.

Warmer.

"Chloe!" Emily calls, leaping up from her seat to wave her long arms needlessly. Even sitting down, she towered over her crewmates. "Come sit with us!" Across from her, Stacie waves her over as well, so she moves to join them.

She takes a seat between Emily and a tall, thin woman with dark hair to her chin that smiles politely as Chloe sits.

"This is Alex," Emily says, nodding to the woman. "And her sister, Kara." On Alex's other side, a woman with honey-blonde hair gives Chloe a wide smile. "They're good people."

"Hey!" another dark-haired woman says, brow furrowing. "You say that as if we aren't all good people!"

"We aren't," the woman beside her says with a smirk and a wink.

The first woman shushes her, reaching out to shake Chloe's hand. "I'm Amberle. Ignore Eretria. She's an idiot."

"Better an idiot than a pampered brat like you," Eretria huffs at Amberle, but she nods politely enough to Chloe.

And then she's being introduced to more and more women. Laura, Hope, Ava, Willow. There's too many names, too many faces, for her to remember, but she recognizes some of them as the women she'd seen working up on deck. At some point during the introductions, a plate of heavy meat and vegetables is placed in front of her and she realizes how hungry she really is. She hasn't eaten since the day before. Her last dinner at home. So she stops trying to place faces to names and tears into her food in a way that would leave her lady's maid gasping, but the women around her don't even blink at it.

Like her clothes, it's so, so strange. But she feels freer than she has in years.

* * *

Just after lights out, Stacie takes her up on deck.

The sun has set and there are far less women at the helm and the ropes. Most of them are gathered in a small huddle near the bow, drinking and singing. But her attention is drawn beyond them, beyond the flapping sails, to the sky.

Chloe is struck mute by the sheer amount of stars. Back home, there had been trees everywhere, leaving only a small patch of sky visible from her window at night. But here, the sky goes on forever and the stars with it. The ocean is dark and endless. Waves rise, crested with frothing moonlight, until they fall back into the pitch black water. And the ship that had seemed so large and intimidating to her in the day, suddenly seems so small. Everything feels small, under the vastness of the stars.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Stacie smiles as she settles her elbows on the railing.

Chloe joins her, leaning out to watch the ocean lap at the sides of the ship. It's cold enough that Chloe's breath turns to mist as soon as it leaves her and she wishes she had brought her cloak. But she stays there, watching the water. "It is."

"The first time I ever boarded a ship, I was fourteen." Stacie reaches out, letting the sea spray against her open palm. "I stared the same way you are now. It feels impossible, doesn't it? To have so many stars in the heavens that I had never seen."

Chloe breathes in deeply, overwhelmed for a moment by the strong, salty wind and the sparkling sky. There's no Thomas here. No Father. Just more stars than she could ever hope to count.

"Captain," Stacie says, pulling Chloe's attention from the sky and back to the deck. The Crow stands a few feet away, hands tucked behind her back and eyes as dark as the water.

Someone at the helm calls to Stacie and she straightens, giving Chloe's arm a reassuring squeeze. "I'll return in a moment." She moves to the stairs, nodding to the captain as she passes.

The Crow takes her place by the railing and Chloe shivers, certain the night wind has suddenly grown colder. She doesn't look at Chloe or give any other indication that she knows she's there at all. They just stand in silence, both watching the ocean.

She doesn't know what prompts it. Perhaps it's the uncomfortable quiet or some notion that she should be polite and try to speak with this woman. Or maybe it's just her fear forcing her to fill the silence. Whatever it is, it surprises even her when she opens her mouth and says, "Captain, may I ask you something?"

The Crow doesn't answer right away. Her head tilts, moonlight catching on her earrings, and she looks up at Chloe. They're close enough now that Chloe can see the Crow is actually a little shorter than her. It doesn't make her any less intimidating. "Yes," she says, fixing Chloe with a gaze so piercing that she wonders briefly if the Crow can see straight through her. If she already knows the question.

Chloe swallows the wave of anxiety that rises to burn at her cheeks. She wants to ask for the truth. For a clear deal to be made, out loud, between them. She wants to hear the captain say she plans to bed her as payment for this journey, so that she knows for certain. So that she can stop waiting in dread and unease for it. This unvoiced arrangement scares her. The constant fear that the captain will suddenly appear at her door or have Chloe delivered to her quarters makes it hard for her to breathe, to sleep, to think.

She's made her decision and she can't take that back. An offer was made, silent though it was. Anything, everything, to get to Spain. She can do what needs to be done.

But she would really like to stop worrying about it every second that she isn't distracted by Emily's happy rambling or Stacie's quiet admissions about stars.

Every second she spends in the Crow's presence.

"Are you going to ask or should I attempt to guess?" The Crow's dry voice startles Chloe back to herself. She hasn't moved, her gaze as steady and cold as ever.

"My payment." The words fall from her lips before she can try and place them in order. "I want… I wanted to ask about my payment."

The Crow remains still, unblinking.

Chloe sucks in a quick breath, hearing her voice rise a little when she continues. "I need to hear you say it. I know when I arrived, I… I offered the captain—I offered you my-my—" She stutters to a halt, face burning even in the cold air. She closes her eyes, breathing in as she counts seven seconds, then breathes out for six. She opens her eyes and finds the Crow unmoved. "We made a deal that night, obviously. You are bringing me to my aunt's, so of course an accord has been reached. But we never spoke the deal aloud. And I need to hear you say it."

The Crow's brow creases so slightly that Chloe barely catches it. "What exactly do you wish me to say?"

She's toying with her, Chloe thinks. Playing with her, forcing Chloe to humiliate herself by saying it. And alongside the fear and anxiety, anger suddenly rises as well. It's so quick that she has no time to get a handle on it before she speaks. "Say you plan to claim my body as payment for bringing me to Spain," she snaps. "Because you don't perform charity and because I have no coin to give, yes? Just say it. That's what you pirates do. You just _take_ things, whether they truly wish to be given or not." She grits her teeth, face nearly painfully hot. "I made my offer because I had nothing else and you're taking advantage of that. I don't regret doing what I had to do, but your threats and listings of the ways I owe you are cowardly. Just say it, Crow."

The Crow stands rigid before her, face unchanged. Then her chin lowers just a hair and it's as if her entire being shifts. Something dark and angry seems to bleed out of her very skin, reminding Chloe that the one and only time she'd snapped at Thomas, she'd had to stay inside for weeks before the bruises faded from her face.

And just like that, her anger gives way to paralyzing panic. She stops breathing completely, hands gripping the ship rail until her knuckles turn white. Her entire body braces for the hit.

A muscle in the Crow's jaw ticks sharply and Chloe's gaze flickers to it. She struggles to pull in a breath deeper than a shallow gasp. Shivers race up her spine that have nothing to do with the cold.

The Crow steps away from her slowly. Her breath hisses out, looking more like steam from a dragon than mist. And when she speaks, the words burn across Chloe's skin. "Think highly of yourself, do you?" Her dark eyes track down Chloe's body and back up, her heavy gaze nearly tangible. Her lip curls. "Trust me, Princess. If I wanted you in my bed, you'd already be in it."

"Then how—"

"You will work off your debt, just as I said before. You go where we tell you and do what we tell you, without complaint and without disrespect." The Crow bares her teeth as she growls, "Pirates we may be, but watch what you accuse us of, Princess. Or you'll be delivered to your aunt piece by piece." She storms off, leaving Chloe gaping beside the railing.

The tension slides so quickly from her body that it leaves her dizzy and shaking. She lowers herself to the deck, sucking in cold air that rips at her throat. Vaguely, she hears Stacie calling her name. But she keeps her head down, staring at the churning water below.

She's safe. The Crow had made it quite clear that she isn't interested in bedding her. She just needs to work. And though relief crashes into her like the ocean crashes into the ship, a small part of her burns with humiliation and shame at the same time. She'd lost her temper on a pirate known for her violence and bloodlust. A woman whose name is rarely said above a whisper, for fear of calling down her wrath.

Over the last year, she's felt close to death many times, but she feels it may have barely missed her tonight. She presses her forehead to the baluster and forces her breathing to calm down. She just has to work and stay out of the captain's way. She's safe. She's free.

She doesn't look at the stars again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Kailor: Hello, darlings! This chapter's a bit longer for you all! Happy weekend!**

Aubrey knocks on her door the next morning.

It takes a few moments for Chloe to get the door unlocked. When she retired for bed the previous evening, she remembered Aubrey mentioning the bar under her bed. The Crow's dark eyes had suddenly come to mind and she'd pulled it out and barricaded herself in.

"Good day," Aubrey says once she's opened the door. Chloe knows she must have heard the scraping of the bar being removed, but she doesn't mention it. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," Chloe says, though she had tossed and turned most of the night. "Yourself?"

"Yes, thank you. Are you ready?" She looks at the rumpled shirt and breeches Chloe's wearing.

"Ah, just a moment, please?" Chloe waits for Aubrey to nod before she ducks back into her room to quickly straighten her shirt and tuck it in. She pulls on her vest and boots. Her hair is tangled and needs a wash, but she fights her fingers through it enough to braid it. She's just about to shut the lantern that hangs above the desk when she catches sight of her bag lying near the end of the bed. Acting on a sudden impulse, she pulls it open and digs out the balled up fabric near the bottom. She unrolls it on the desk, taking a moment to admire the shine of her mother's favorite necklace in the firelight. The emerald is small, but beautifully cut. Set in silver with a matching chain that is light as air.

Chloe used to play with it when Maman held her. The stone had looked much larger then, squeezed between her pudgy fingers.

"_You will have this_," Maman used to whisper in her soft French, "_when you are bigger_."

She expected to be completely grown when Maman passed it on. Possibly on her wedding day, as she put on a gorgeous dress and excitedly thought of the love of her life waiting at the altar. She thought maybe Maman would bring it in then and put it on her. Tell her what a beautiful bride she was and how lucky her husband was. But instead, Maman had pressed it into Chloe's tiny fingers with shaking hands a few days before she died.

"_I'm not bigger, Maman_."

"_I know,_ ma souris."

She tucks the necklace into her vest pocket and then picks up the bent coin that had been wrapped up with it. It's a Venetian ducat, poorly made. It was old long before little Aine Donahue had given it to her in the town square and said they'd always be friends. She'd died not even a year later and Chloe had only the coin left of her. The design on the front is crumpled and worn away. She doubts anyone would accept it as payment anymore, but she drops it in beside the necklace and buttons her pocket closed anyway.

Aubrey claps her hands together as soon as Chloe joins her in the hall. "You will start today with Ven. Which means we need to find wherever she's sleeping. And then she'll take you to get breakfast and bring you to Perry for your haircut."

Chloe can't even imagine not having all of her hair. She was a child the last time her hair was shoulder-length or shorter. She shoves the thought aside, focusing on the rest of what Aubrey said. "How many places could Ven be?"

Aubrey laughs suddenly, a startlingly friendly sound from the stiff woman. "Ven is small. The Belladonna is large. What do you think?"

"Aren't there sleep quarters down below?"

Aubrey nods as she turns, heading off down the hall. Chloe follows. "Yes. You and the officers have their own sleeping quarters on this level. The rest of the crew sleeps in hammocks and bunks beneath us. Ven has her own quarters not far from yours, but she rarely uses them."

She thinks about asking why, but then decides it would be rude.

Aubrey sighs and continues, not seeming to notice Chloe's silence. "Honestly, half of a quartermaster's job is babysitting the crew. Ven is one of many that I must keep a sharp eye on. But she is one of the captain's most trusted crew members, so you'll be safe with her." She slows long enough to glance over her shoulder at Chloe. "If, however, she has any ideas that _don't_ seem safe, please report them to me."

Chloe frowns. "Does she often have unsafe ideas?"

"As often as the breeze blows." Aubrey turns down a set of stairs, snagging a lantern off the wall as she goes. "Up and at 'em, ladies!" she shouts into the darkness below and a chorus of groans and curses answer her.

Chloe steps off the stairs and finds more lanterns being lit. The space is open and wide, hammocks hung every few feet and bunks lining the walls. A young blonde nearby pulls a fur blanket over her head to hide from the light.

Aubrey grabs the edge of her hammock and shakes it. "Up, Saltzman. Don't make me tell you again." They continue on, between the rows of hammocks. She stops beside another blonde that is already up and dressed. Chloe recognizes her as the first pirate she'd seen after Stacie and the Crow—the one with the wide, friendly smile. "Jessica. Have you seen Ven?"

"Um." Jessica purses her lips, glancing at Chloe. "I think she slept in the captain's quarters last night."

There's a pause, during which it all comes together for Chloe. She guesses that answers her wonderings about whether or not the captain takes women as lovers. It's a realization that brings last night rushing back to mind and she turns away to hide the embarrassment threatening to burn through her skin.

"I see," Aubrey says softly, nodding. "Thank you. Get the rest of the girls up."

"Yes, Quartermaster."

Aubrey leads her back upstairs and down one hall, then another. She stops at a door on the right. Chloe stares at it, hoping to find something that makes it stand out from the others. Anything to let her know how Aubrey knows this door is the one she wants. Because they all look exactly the same to her.

Knocking lightly, Aubrey steps back. Chloe moves with her, staying a step behind and clasping her hands together to keep them from fidgeting.

When the door opens, Chloe forgets worrying about fidgeting or anything else.

Because the Crow is standing there in just chest bindings and a pair of loose-fitting pants that sit low on her hips. The skin of her stomach is smooth, flawless and pale. There is ink on her wrists, scattered up her forearms, over the curves of her shoulders. Her eyes are narrowed, heavy with sleep, and there's a shirt hanging from her hand, as if she'd grabbed it on her way to the door but been too tired to put it on.

"Aubrey," the Crow says. Her voice is rough and sleep-hoarse. A shiver runs up Chloe's spine, born of something warm and strange curling in her stomach. Politely, she averts her gaze from the bare skin before her.

"Good day, Captain." Aubrey's voice is a little louder and more cheerful than before and the Crow's nose wrinkles in distaste. "You wanted Chloe with Ven this morning."

The Crow's eyes flicker over Aubrey's shoulder to Chloe, then back. "Come in." She steps back into the room and Aubrey follows. After a hesitant moment, Chloe does as well.

There's a creaking and the tap of fingers on metal as the Crow fully opens a lantern on the wall, revealing a small room with nothing but a plush divan and a simple table in the center. Then she slips through a door on the left, leaving it slightly ajar. There's some quiet rustling, then a much louder "Ow!" and the Crow returns. Her shirt is on now, tucked in neatly. She barely glances at them as she moves over to the divan and settles into it, crossing her legs.

The silence grows and stretches until it's clear Ven isn't coming out. Chloe glances between the other two—Aubrey idly watching the lantern flame and the Crow staring at the floorboards. Chloe shifts uncomfortably.

"Aubrey." The Crow's voice whispers across the room and Aubrey nods, slipping through the still open door.

As soon as she's gone, Chloe can feel the Crow's gaze burning into the side of her face. She takes a deep breath and turns to meet those dark eyes, ready for the anger she'd seen last night.

But the Crow doesn't look angry. She looks...pensive. Though her eyes are on Chloe, it feels like she's looking far beyond her.

She stands still, unwilling to stir the Crow from wherever her mind has gone, and just stares back. The Crow really is beautiful. Pale, with sharp angles at her jaw and her elbows. She thinks then that the Crow probably has no issue disappearing into a crowd. Sitting back on a divan in the light of a fully opened lantern, she seems physically unimposing at first glance. She could blend right into the rest of the world, small and innocuous. It would be easy for her.

Except for her eyes. Anyone who caught her gaze would see the danger there, the power.

It's while she's thinking this that the Crow's gaze suddenly focuses. Gone is the absentminded staring and Chloe's stomach clenches as the Crow locks eyes with her. She'd been right. Perhaps she could pass for a normal woman if someone weren't paying her much attention, but there's no hiding the pirate captain in those eyes.

There's some more quiet shuffling and the door opens fully, making Chloe jump. Aubrey steps out. Behind her Ven pads quietly, vest on, but unbuttoned. Sluggishly, she rubs a fist against her eye and pouts at Aubrey and the Crow. Then she sees Chloe and her pout switches to a bright, sleepy smile. "Good morning!" And to Chloe's utter shock, she bounces right over to pull Chloe into a warm hug.

"Good morning," Chloe offers back, glancing over Ven's shoulder at the Crow. Her face is still, impossible to read. Since she seems to have no issue with her lover showing affection for others, Chloe looks away from her and gives herself just a moment to enjoy the hug. It's been a long time since she's been hugged by anyone.

Ven pulls back with a happy hum and buttons her vest. "I am starving. Are you hungry?"

"Ah, yes."

"Wonderful." Ven salutes the Crow and Aubrey with a flourish and heads out the door, tugging Chloe's sleeve so she follows.

She tries to convince herself that it's just her imagination that makes her feel the Crow's gaze on her back until the door shuts behind them.

In the hall, there are women moving about now. Their greetings are subdued and tired, but friendly enough. They pass the wide stairway that leads up to the deck and Chloe sees it's still dark out. She tries to hide her yawn, but Ven catches it and laughs. "Are you not used to rising before the sun?"

"Not at all."

"You'll learn." Ven spins to face her, walking backwards down the corridor. "First—after food, of course—I'll take you to see Perry to get your hair chopped. Then we'll get to training! Do you know anything about sailing?"

Chloe shakes her head, brow furrowed. "Sinking is bad?"

Ven's laugh is a bark that startles her, but also pulls her own lips into a smile. She can't remember the last time she actually made someone laugh. "That's a good place to start, I'd say." She twirls with a dancer's grace, but nearly crashes into a corner. "Oop!" She chuckles, dodging around it, and Chloe can't help but laugh too. The anxiety that had settled over her upon seeing the Crow is gone now.

It's much quieter in the dining hall at this time of the morning. There are fewer women scattered about and no card games. A couple of the crew members have their heads resting on the tables, getting a little more sleep before they go to work, she assumes. Stacie is sitting near the door, one hand picking at the remnants of her breakfast and the other holding open a thick, leather-bound book. She looks up when they sit across from her and grins. She waves to someone over their heads, letting the book snap closed. "Ashley! Tell Rosita two more!" Her hand drops back to the book, simply resting on the cover. "How are we feeling today, ladies?"

"Great!" Ven says, glancing to Chloe for her answer.

"Indeed," Chloe agrees. "Very well."

"Good." Stacie takes one more bite and pushes her plate aside. Her hand rises from the book, flipping it open again. "What are you going to do with her today, Ven?" she asks, eyes on the page.

"Ah." Ven peers at her with one eye, the other closed as she rubs her fist against it. "I thought we'd start with teaching her how to shoot a cannon. Maybe get her climbing the shrouds. Or," she perks up excitedly, "we could take a dive from the poop deck!" She grins up at Chloe. "Do you like sharks?"

Stacie's narrowed gaze slips up from her book. Ven grins at her too. The exchange assures Chloe that Ven is jesting.

Just in case, though, she resolves to find out what "shrouds" are as quickly as possible so she doesn't climb them.

"I can speak to sharks," a voice whispers and Chloe jumps. She turns to find a new woman sitting on her other side, straddling the bench seat. Her long black hair frames wide, unblinking eyes that Chloe can almost see her reflection in. It takes a second to recognize her when she isn't upside down, but after a moment, Chloe realizes this is the woman who was hanging from the mast yesterday.

"Lilly," Stacie says, eyes back on her book. "Be nice."

"Aye!" Ven leans around Chloe to glare at their new breakfast companion. "No biting."

Lilly hisses at her, then goes back to staring at Chloe. It makes her distinctly uncomfortable, but Ashley appears with a plate of food for her just then. Chloe stares at the chunky eggs and slices of apple. She really is hungry, but Lilly's burning stare on the side of her face makes her a little afraid to lift the fork to her mouth. She glances back up. Lilly still hasn't blinked. She does, however, glance down at Chloe's plate, then back up to her face. A few seconds pass and she does it again.

Cautiously, Chloe lifts one of the slices of apple from her plate, intending to eat it. But she finds herself holding it out instead. To Lilly. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ven go still with a bite halfway to her mouth. Stacie looks up from her book.

Lilly leans in, sniffing at the slice. Her nostrils flare almost impossibly wide, her eyes round and disconcertingly bright. Then, slowly, she opens her mouth.

Perturbed, Chloe quickly drops the piece between her teeth and yanks her hand back. Lilly leans away again, happily munching on the apple. Her eyes never leave Chloe, but there's something faintly lighter in her glassy eyes and Chloe takes that as a good sign.

When they finish eating and leave the table, Lilly follows.

"Looks like you've made a friend," Ven laughs.

* * *

Perry is a shorter woman with rounded hips, wild red curls, and light blue eyes. Much like Aubrey, she has an air about her that makes Chloe want to check her clothes for food stains.

"Hello!" she says the moment Ven leads Chloe into the room. She puts down the rag she'd been wiping the floor with and stands. Then, much less chipper, "Oh, no! Lilly, out!" She glares over Chloe's shoulder at Lilly, who's hovering in the doorway.

"Go, Lilly," Ven says. Lilly hisses, but slinks back into the hallway. Ven follows her out, closing the door.

"I'm sorry about that," Perry says, accent perfectly clipped and proper. "She tends to steal my things." Her brow furrows. "Or eat them." Her hands flutter about, indicating the room. There are neatly organized shelves with bolts of fabric and folded shirts and pants. Pincushions sit in a perfect row on the desk and a mannequin stands in the corner, wearing half of a shirt. "Anyways. I'm Perry," she says and Chloe nods as though she hasn't already learned the name. "You must be Chloe. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you. It's a pleasure to meet you, as well."

"Oh, that's kind of you to say. Come, come. Take a seat." Perry pulls the cushioned chair away from the desk. "The captain said we'd be cutting to your shoulders, yes?"

Chloe nods, stomach turning again at the thought. It's just hair, she reminds herself. She takes a seat as Perry pulls the cover off of a gilded mirror mounted on the wall in front of them.

She moves to stand behind Chloe, smiling at her in the reflection. "You have beautiful hair, if you don't mind me saying so, dear. It really is a shame to be cutting it, but safety first, of course." She turns to pick up a pair of scissors from the desk that shine brightly in the lamplight. "Would you like to keep some of the braid?"

"No, that's fine." Chloe shakes her head. What would she do with it? Keep it in her room as a reminder of the sacrifices she's having to make to be free of Thomas? No, it's best to let it go.

"Okay, dear. First cut then. Stay still." Perry lifts the braid from Chloe's back and the scissors whisper open.

Chloe closes her eyes, not wanting to watch the first cut. The biggest one. She can feel it though, the way the weight lifts from her head with every snip, until finally she feels Perry pull away. Her head is suddenly so much lighter and she opens her eyes to look at her reflection.

When Ashley had given her new clothes, she had barely recognized herself. And now, with hair falling forward over her shoulders when she turns her head, the "barely" disappears and she just simply does not recognize herself. She thinks that her own father would probably not realize who she was if he passed her on the street. It's just her hair and clothes, but somehow her whole face looks different now. Something subtle and simple is changed and tears spring suddenly to her eyes. She blinks them away, blowing out a steadying breath. It's ridiculous. She hasn't cried all this time, she won't do it now over a haircut.

Perry's hand is suddenly there, warm on her back, rubbing in soothing circles. "I know you must be…" She sighs, shaking her head. "It's hard, adjusting to life at sea when you're a lady."

A clenching pain shoots through Chloe's chest and she locks eyes with Perry in the mirror. She's obviously not a pirate and she's been called "Milady" a few times, but Perry's comment sounds more knowing. More certain. Like she might know exactly who Chloe is.

Perry smiles. "Yes, the crew knows you're a lady. Well, the ones I've talked to anyways. We can tell by the way you carry yourself. People raised the way you and I were, well, we usually have a hard time letting go of our posture and language lessons."

Fear crawls hot up her throat and she fights it down, so it isn't in her voice when she says, "You know who I am?"

"No," Perry says, pouring cool water all over the terror in Chloe's chest. "Just that you're a lady. It's not polite to ask guests about their backgrounds. Unless, of course, the information is offered." She busies herself with Chloe's hair, drawing a soft brush through the few tangles left. "Which is what I'm doing. I was once a lady too, so I understand more than most how you're feeling now. If you have any questions or concerns, I'm here for you. Or if you just need a friend aboard the ship."

The last friend she truly had was little Aine Donahue and she had died when Chloe was barely seven. Every friend she's had since then has been the daughter of one of her father's connections or a cousin of a member of the city guard that happened to attend the same balls. She knew nothing of them besides their names, who they were related to, and which dress designers they preferred. Nothing past the surface. So Perry's words call to her on a level so deep that it nearly brings the tears back to her eyes.

Instead, she puts on a smile that doesn't look as shaky in the mirror as it feels. "Thank you, Perry. I would like that very much."

Perry gives a smile of her own, moving to another part of Chloe's hair with her scissors. "It's not just me, you know. The vast majority of the crew are wonderful women and would happily be your friends. If you were interested." She bends to pick at a few of Chloe's curls, judging the length of one against another. "Most of them are...uncouth."

Chloe smiles at the slight grimace that crosses Perry's face.

"But good people. Overall." Perry snips another lock shorter and steps back. "There. I think that looks quite nice. You have a good face for shorter hair!"

She's right. Chloe leans forward for a closer look as she reaches up to run a hand through her curls. They end so abruptly at her shoulders. Chloe tosses her head back and forth, curls bouncing against her cheeks. "It's so strange," she says, gathering it all into her hands to feel how light it is. "My head feels so...weightless."

"We did cut off quite a bit." Perry turns to her desk and exchanges the scissors for Chloe's severed braid. She holds it out with both hands and Chloe marvels at how long it truly is. "Are you sure you don't want to keep some of it? It really is quite beautiful."

She eyes the frayed end of the braid, where it had once been connected to her. All those years of growth...severed so quickly. And it's just hair, just a simple braid. But those years it represents were lonely and horrible. It is just hair, but she feels better without it. "No. Thank you."

Perry nods as if she understands, and perhaps she does. She drops the braid back on her desk. "Do you need anything else, dear? Or do you have any questions?"

She does. She wants to ask how Perry went from being a lady to being here, on a pirate ship. But she knows she would feel guilty asking Perry about her past without revealing some of her own and she isn't ready to do that. So she just shakes her head. "No. Thank you. For everything."

"Of course." Perry pats Chloe's shoulder in a move that's almost motherly and turns to pull the door open.

Ven sticks her head in and whistles a trilling note when she sees Chloe. "Looking good, Red! It suits you."

Perry reaches out suddenly, dragging her fingers through Ven's wild hair. "You know, it's time for you to get a trim too, Ven. Your hair is always in your face and—"

"Did you hear that?" Ven asks, twisting away from Perry. "I think I hear someone calling me. It's probably important. Must go. Chloe? We're going!" She grabs Chloe's wrist, tugging her out of the room.

Chloe gasps as she's dragged into the hall. Perry's voice follows them, yelling that Ven better come back before nightfall, but Ven just keeps running. It's childish and ridiculous, but it makes Chloe feel almost giddy.

She laughs all the way back up to the deck.


End file.
